


Perihelion

by Vanamiya



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Amputation, Coercion, Force-Feeding, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Torture, Watersports, also Pharma has no hands at this point, basically lots of terrible things happen to Pharma, but like he has kind of a good ending, i guess, oh boy where do i even start, so there's that, though I mean it doesn't happen on screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/pseuds/Vanamiya
Summary: My take on the old but gold "Tarn finds Pharma after Delphi and saves him" trope. Heed the tags! They are there for a reason!---“Pharma, I know you hate me for what you believe I did to you. But things are a bit more complex than that.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a request on tumblr! The request itself said "watersports" but the actual watersports part is very very small, dwarfed by all the other stuff I included.
> 
> Please if you are very sensitive maybe don't read this, okay? I tried to tag what I could think of but I'm not sure I thought of it all that is happening in the fic and that could potentially be harmful to someone if they read this. To those who eat that shit right up for breakfast... welcome. Maybe I'm being a bit overly careful but I seriously never wrote something like this before I'm just nervous okay. orz

“ _Pharma._ ”  
  
Everything was blurry. He felt like he was swimming. Drowning in his own mind. Perhaps he was dead. But that voice... it reached out to him. It caressed his spark and light flooded his optics. There was a shadow looming over him whose shape was so awfully familiar. He attempted to speak but all that came out was a raspy groan.  
  
“ _What happened?_ ”  
  
The voice dug deeper, nestled itself into his center. Like an anchor, it grounded his floating conscious and he clung to it, centering all his spinning thoughts around that one question.  
  
“I...,” he finally answered, “made a mistake.”  
  
Yes, a mistake. A mistake that had cost him his reputation, his facility, his servos. For a brief moment it occurred to him that confessing his wrongdoings to this particular mech would not help him in any way. Perhaps he would decide to push him the rest of the way to the afterspark. That was just as well. What use did his life have now, anyway?  
  
“ _Tell me everything._ ”  
  
And he did. Everything - from the creation of the virus to his fight with Ratchet – spilled from his intake. He left out no detail. His voice felt distant as if he was talking through a speaker. The shadow didn't even move a milimeter, seemingly listening with utmost attention. When he was done, the words died out and left only static coming from his vocalizer.  
  
“ _Is see. That virus of yours... can you recreate the vaccine?_ ”  
  
More static. Then... “Yes.”  
  
“ _Then recharge now. Rest._ ”  
  
And he did, carried by that cursed voice that he couldn't even hate right now. There was no energy left in him to do so.  
  
\---  
  
“TARN!”  
  
Tarn stared at the screen with interest and no small amount of amusement. The video feed he watched showed the brig, specifically the cell they had stuffed Pharma into after being kind enough to cure him of the disease he himself had created.  
  
Pharma struggled against his shackles, screaming and thrashing wildly like a cornered mechanimal. Because he now lacked servos, they had pierced his wings with large hooks connecting to chains that hung from the ceiling. The chains were taut and he could only relieve the pressure on his most sensitive appendages if he stood perfectly straight and raised his arms a certain way. Which he didn't, too consumed by his own rage.  
  
“TARN! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”  
  
More struggling. Tarn moved just a little closer to the screen and zoomed in on one of the wings. Each time Pharma moved, the wounds in his wings reopened and fresh energon streamed down the thin plating in small rivulets. Tarn would be lying if he said he didn't find the sight to be somewhat aesthetically pleasing.  
  
“YOU TURNED ME INTO THIS! I LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF YOU! COME AND FACE ME ALREADY!”  
  
Behind him, he heard his crew members enter the surveillance room. Their fields were spiked with annoyance and while Tarn understood, to a certain degree, he definitely didn't fee like dealing with them right now. Not after he had just perfected his strategy on what to do with his newest prisoner.  
  
“Can someone _please_ shove a gag into that screechy little flier's intake? If I have to hear him scream one more time it better be because he's dying in a pool of his own energon.” Helex' angry rant was emphasized by approving hums and one hiss. Tarn paused a moment to compose himself before getting up and turning towards his team.  
  
“Your agitation is not unwarranted. Rest assured however that this small... inconvenience will be dealt with swiftly.”  
  
Helex was about to make another comment, though was stopped by a servo lightly touching one of his bigger arms. He turned his helm to see Kaon's dead stare directed at Tarn's general direction.  
  
“What are you going to do,” he asked with much more calmness than the others were able maintain. Behind his mask, Tarn smiled again.  
  
“Well, you heard him didn't you? He wants me to... “face” him.”  
  
And then Tarn left through the door the others had just used to enter. It took a moment but both Helex and Tesarus looked at each other with the same amount of disgust.  
  
“I did NOT need hear that just now.” Tesarus shook his helm to get rid of the mental image. Vos hissed a swearword.  
  
There were more screams coming from the video feed and all optics turned towards the screen. For a moment they all stared before Helex spoke out loud what they were all thinking. “So... should we watch them?”  
  
“Are you crazy?! Tarn is going to kill us!”  
  
“But Tesarus, aren't you a little curious at least? I mean, there must be a reason why that Autobot caught our commander's interest.”  
  
Kaon sighed. “A tight valve? A pretty frame? Does it matter?”  
  
“You know that Tarn of all mechs isn't like that. There must be something else. Also, how do _you_ know whether he's pretty?”  
  
“Seriously, we shouldn't do this. Tarn will put our helms on a pike if he catches us watching him frag his pet medic.”  
  
There was movement on the other side of the screen and Helex decided that they were done debating about this, he stepped closer, sinking his massive frame into the surveillance chair.  
  
“You know what? Anyone who's too much of a robochicken to stay is free to leave and save their aft from punishment. I for one need to know what Tarn sees in that stuck up Autobot jet.”  
  
A minute passed but no one left. Helex gave the others another short glance before gluing his optics back to the screen.  
  
“Thought so.”  
  
\---  
  
Weak. He felt so weak. Ever since he had woken up in this incredibly painful position, he had felt like death was creeping ever closer to him. Hanging from the ceiling by the wings. The hooks were painful, someone seemed to have taken care to pierce them right through the most sensitive part of the panels. Perhaps, with enough strength, he could pull himself tree, even if that meant completely ripping his wings apart in the process. Was that preferable to not being able to lie down or even sit? It wasn't like he would ever get to fly again anyway.  
  
Of course there was still the problem that he didn't have enough strength. They hadn't fed him yet, not once, which wouldn't be much of a problem, usually. Cybertronians were resilient. They didn't need to have energon every day. However, the wounds he had sustained because of the hooks would never fully stop bleeding and the more energon he lost, the weaker he became. Warnings were already swarming his HUD, his fuel levels had reached critical low, damage to his wings couldn't be self repaired, transforming was currently impossible due to damaged wings and missing servos(his servos... he didn't even want to look at those unsightly stumps at the end of his arms), systems were getting ready for emergency shutdown.  
  
He ignored the warnings. He tried to at least. Instead, he felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, too stubborn to just give in to the emergency shutdown and too weak to stay online for too long. How long was he already here? Days? Weeks? His chronometer had stopped working ages ago to conserve energy.  
  
In the end, he resorted to screaming. He screamed and screamed until his vocalized glitched out, holding on to the hope that Tarn would finally appear. Or anyone, really, it didn't even matter at this point. Either to feed him or to kill him. As long as he didn't have to continue to exist on the edge between life and death, holding on to silly slivers of hope. The silence of this cell let the thoughts in his processor become louder than even the stuttering whirr of his engines. Guilt, anger, hate. It was all there, swirling in his tank instead of energon.  
  
If he was completely, absolutely honest with himself, then he knew that all of this had been a mistake. He should never have agreed to the deal with Tarn, he should have called Autobot command and requested immediate backup or permission to evacuate. He had let his pride get the better of him, convinced he could save Delphi on his own and keep it running, proving his superiority to all those that failed to see it.  
  
Then the demand for T-cogs had become so high that he had been forced to kill his patients. The survival of many was more important than saving a single life. That was logic, that was war. Still, he remembered that in the beginning, he had been against the idea. It had gone against his code as a doctor. Now? Now he had killed nearly everyone in Delphi just to save his own plating.  
  
Sometimes he hated what he had become but he hated Tarn even more for having done this to him. Perhaps he should have refused to be stationed at Delphi in the first place. It hadn't been his choice in the first place but perhaps if he had been a bit more forceful with his protests, it would have changed the mind of high command?  
  
There was no use in dwelling on it. He only did so because there was nothing else to do besides screaming and slowly dying.  
  
Pharma heard a soft click and stilled for a moment. The door opened and his frame started shaking. He thought he had been prepared for the moment when Tarn would finally come to snuff out his spark but, as it turned out, he still feared him.  
  
Tarn said nothing at first, he stepped into the cell as if he had all the time in the world and closed the door behind him even if there was no possible way for Pharma to flee like this. Then he walked closer and despite Pharma's best efforts, he flinched away, held in place by the hooks and chains.  
  
Tarn came so close that Pharma could feel hot air blowing out of Tarn's vents and hitting his frame like a soft warm summer breeze. It had been so long since he had actually been on a planet that had a summer. A large servo reached out and carefully touched Pharma's face before lifting his chin.  
  
When Tarn was angry, one knew what to expect. A calm Tarn was unpredictable. It meant he had a specific idea and depending on what it was, there was a chance for it to be much, much worse than simple violence. The thought chilled Pharma to the core. Had he not managed to annoy Tarn enough to warrant a swift death via spark failure? Did Tarn not owe him at least this much?  
  
“Pharma.”  
  
There was no trace of Tarn's special ability but his voice was sin turned into sound nonetheless. Pharma did his best to look anywhere but Tarn's optics, the only part of his face not covered by the mask.  
  
“Pharma, look at me. We haven't exactly been exemplary hosts towards you, have we? You must be starving.”  
  
There was a poisonous quip at the tip of Pharma's glossa and he was even ready to abandon any sense of self-preservation just so he could annoy the tank into getting angry after all when Tarn let go of his chin and instead started to fiddle with the chains holding up his wings and arms with them. He gave the chains just a smidgen more length but Pharma felt himself immediately fall forward until he hit a broad chassis. His legs, Pharma had to realize, were by now too weak to carry him on their own. They wobbled and gave way easily if he didn't have some kind of support. His wings burned and ached but at least the constant strain was gone, a feeling so relieving Pharma sighed and almost forgot for a moment that something terrible would soon happen to him. Almost.  
  
After Tarn was done securing the chains with the new setting, he took an energon cube from his subspace.  
  
“That is what you need, isn't it?”  
  
There was a subtle undertone of amusement in Tarn's voice and Pharma was tempted to decline the offer. Who knew what was in there? Then again, did it even matter? It wasn't like Tarn couldn't force it down his throat, torture him more or even leave him to starve and rust in this damned cell if he refused. He lifted an arm to grab the cube but stopped and stared in horror. He couldn't grab it. Not without servos. The dead end of his wrist smeared a bit of dark leftover rust on the side of the cube before Pharma retracted it, directing a somewhat helpless glance at Tarn. The tank chuckled.  
  
Surprisingly, he lifted the cube to Pharma's intake without even one mocking word. The first sip felt like the whisper of Primus himself as it flooded Pharma's parched insides. He swallowed greedily, willingly drinking more and more as Tarn started to tip the cube. Pharma's HUD flashed in approval as the first warning signals began to disappear.  
  
He was finished with the cube sooner than he wanted to. That would barely fill him. He doubted that Tarn would actually waste another cube on him but to his surprise, there was another one nudging at his lips barely one nano-klik later.  
  
“Drink,” Tarn demanded. And Pharma drank.  
  
Two cubes became three. Three turned into four. By the fifth one, Pharma started to wonder where Tarn had even stowed so many. Just how big was that tank's subspace? Those weren't just small glasses after all, they were big cubes, used to store energon rather than drink it. He also started to feel overly full.  
  
“Tarn,” he tried, leaning his face away from the cube that skipped no beat in following him, “that's enough.”  
  
“Shhh. Drink.”  
  
Tarn nudged Pharma's intake with the cube and Pharma reluctantly opened it once more. The rush through his throat and into his tank that had felt so divine before suddenly became uncomfortable. A new warning flashed on his HUD: energon overflow.  
  
It wasn't even engex that would give you a buzz if you indulged too much and disabled your FIM chip. This was normal energon and Tarn forced a lot more into him than was recommended.  
  
The sixth cube was plain awful. Pharma took one sip, decided that he couldn't do this and just wanted to pull away when Tarn suddenly grabbed the back of his helm.  
  
“ _Drink_ ,” he demanded in his sweetest, spark caressing voice while tipping the cube further and forcing its contents into Pharma's intake. He struggled weakly, gurgled a refusal, though it was of no use. Without his servos, all he could do was press is arm stumps against the treads and push. He slipped several times before he finally had to give up.  
  
Energon spilled, running down his chin, his neck. Tarn didn't let go. The sixth cube was finished with liquid smeared all over his face. Not all of it was energon.  
  
Tarn procured the seventh. Pharma let out a shocked squeak despite himself.  
  
“Tarn please! No more!”  
  
“Shhh. I was under the impression that you had lost a lot of energy while under our... tender care.”  
  
“It's enough, Tarn, really, please stop!”  
  
But Tarn didn't listen. He merely shushed Pharma some more before tightening the grip on his helm and offering the cube. Pharma knew if he didn't drink on his own, Tarn would make him but... he couldn't. He simply couldn't. His tank already felt like it was going to burst and his systems worked at maximum capacity to incorporate the newly acquired fuel into his bloodstream. The only other place it could go was his waste tank that had stayed almost completely empty during the time of his imprisonment, just like his fuel tank. Now it filled up at a speed that felt downright uncomfortable, trying desperately to filter out the unneeded mass of liquid.  
  
Just as anticipated, Tarn forced the seventh cube into him as well. Pharma's whole frame shook while he swallowed. It was painful, he felt like he was drowning in energon but Tarn wouldn't stop, Tarn didn't even seem to care. Was this his punishment? First Tarn left him in an empty cell where he almost starved, then he fed him until his tank would burst? He had been right, a calm Tarn was never a good sign. Never.  
  
After what felt like 4 million stellar cycles of war, the cube was empty. Pharma already dreaded the next one. But... there was none. Instead, Tarn lifted his mask just enough to free his intake. He leaned closer to Pharma and a glossa sneaked from behind the lips, lapping at the energon that had gotten spilled. First Pharma's lips, then down his chin and even over his throat. Pharma let him, infinitely grateful that the force-feeding was apparently over but already afraid of what would come next. There was no doubt that this was just the beginning.  
  
“Pharma, I know you hate me for what you believe I did to you. But things are a bit more complex than that.”  
  
Tarn slid his mask back down before thick digits found their way onto Pharma's plating, brushing and rubbing along seams with interest as if the damn tank hadn't touched him before. Pharma found at least enough dignity to glare at Tarn.  
  
“Oh? Are you trying to shove all the blame onto me then? I tried to save my facility and my staff. If I had called high command like a good little Autobot, you surely would have eradicated Delphi before the message even reached Optimus Prime's desk. -Ow!”  
  
Tarn touched a wing and Pharma flinched in pain. The hooks were still in place and the sensors there were not ready for any kind of contact but that didn't stop Tarn. He watched with fascination as Pharma squirmed and did his best not to whimper.  
  
“Oh, I certainly would have. You're right. That is not what I wanted to bring to your attention however.”  
  
Tarn's servos reached the plating that shielded his fuel tank. He brushed his digits over it before digging them into the metal, making Pharma shudder. It was a weird sensation and certainly not one he would describe as pleasurable. Not to mention that the fullness in his waste tank became a little... uncomfortable. He pressed his legs closer together and tried to concentrate on the conversation.  
  
“What is it that want me to notice then?”  
  
“Think for a bit, _Pharma_.” Tarn laced the last word, his name, with more of his power, vibrations that went straight to his spark. If there was one pleasurable sensation among all the pain and discomfort, it was this one. His spark jumped at it and spun. Tarn's servos wandered even lower.  
  
“Why is there even a medical facility on Messatine? Autobot command knows this is DJD territory. And yet they sent miners and medics – right beneath our watchful optics. Tell me this, Pharma, did you have a choice? When you transferred to Delphi?”  
  
“I...” Pharma couldn't give an answer to that. HAD he had a choice? And actual choice? It had been urgent, he was told, and he had been the best candidate for the job. It had turned out to be a complete disappointment. There had not been much to do besides repairing half-crushed miners and the occasional patients that came from nearby planets or ships. He had received no recognition for this, not even an honorable mention. No one thought about Delphi unless they needed it. It had been a thankless job and Pharma was not the kind of mech who accepted such drawbacks easily. He had hated it with all his spark, taking it out on his staff in a way by becoming more and more controlling, accepting nothing less than perfection. And then Tarn had contacted him with an offer he had not been able to refuse.  
  
Tarn pressed his digits into the area over his waste tank next. Pharma flinched, ripped from his own thoughts and leaning his lower frame as far away as he could.  
  
“Tarn, that's...”  
  
That bastard knew. Of course he had to know, that was why he was doing this in the first place while simultaneously manipulating him through words. While Pharma still didn't know where this was going, the pieces at least started to fit together.  
  
“You are smart. I know that you are. It should be easy for you complete this riddle on your own. The Autobots send you to a planet occupied by the Decepticon Justice Division to do a job that is far, far beneath your capabilities. Then, they practically forget about you. No one comes to check if things are going smoothly. No one demands any reports. No one wonders why the mortality rate of your patients increases. No one except your old friend, that is.”  
  
“You... aren't suggesting...”  
  
“I am, in fact, not suggesting anything. It was only a matter of time until the DJD would get interested in that little facility. Only a matter of time until I would decide that living next to Autobots wasn't such a bad idea if only they could pay the rent.”  
  
No. What Tarn was suggesting couldn't possibly be true. He hadn't gotten sold to the DJD. He hadn't. They had needed someone to lead that sorry place and they knew that he had been the best so they had sent him to get things into order. And forgetting about him afterward... well, that was just a side effect of war, wasn't it? There was always some universe ending event that demanded high command's full attention. Because Megatron was constantly blowing up some planets or developing a new super weapon or whatever else he was doing in his free time.  
  
Tarn leaned in, as close as possible to Pharma's audial receptors while his servo would have touched his interface panel by now if not for the armor covering it.  
  
“ _Now, Pharma. Relax. See, I'm not your enemy, not anymore. I saved you. I fed you. I can make you whole again. The Autobots may have abandoned you but I didn't. I take care of my own._ ”  
  
The words translated into heat, friction, pleasure. His spark spasmed and his systems, while still overly full and somewhat sluggish, sent him pings to start interface protocols. His armor retracted and gave Tarn free reign over both his spike housing and valve cover.  
  
If he knew Tarn, at least in the most generic sense of the word, the tank would go straight for his valve cover, which was why he was surprised when, instead, the servo rubbed at his spike housing with no small amount of insistence. Tarn's other servo was at the small of his back, supporting his frame and tracing idle circles over his spinal struts.  
  
“But I'm... not one of yours.”  
  
“ _Not yet, no. But you were destined to be, from day one. You already took the first step. You freed yourself of your obligation to Delphi. The shackles that bound you to that place, presented to me like a sacrifice on a slab._ ”  
  
There should be rules against words like these being allowed to cause him to moan and press into Tarn's caress further. Both his spike and valve freed themselves of their coverings, greedy for attention while Pharma's spark emitted wave upon wave of pleasure. He could feel Tarn's desire in the midst of his own and the tank wasted no time before taking a hold of his spike, pumping it to full pressure.  
  
“ _You are mine, Pharma. You were always mine. The Autobots gave you to me so they could continue mining nuke in peace while I had something to play with. It was a gamble. They had no way of knowing that I wouldn't just burn the facility to the ground and kill every mech within. And yet they willingly sent you to your potential slaughter._ ”  
  
His processor swam. The pleasure was too much, too fast. It wasn't something that could be grasped or understood like the friction that came through stimulation of interface equipment. Tarn's voice touched him in ways that nothing and no one could ever even hope to emulate.  
  
For a moment, Tarn stepped back, and Pharma was about to whine at the loss of contact before biting his lip stubbornly. He looked into those red optics that always seemed like they were about to burn holes into him and stayed defiant.  
  
“And I'm supposed to believe you? I'm supposed to fall on my knees and beg you to make me your berthwarmer just so you don't kill me? Because Optimus Prime thought it was a good idea to sacrifice one of his best doctors?”  
  
Tarn moved, stepping behind Pharma to finally reach between his legs and touch his aching valve. A few drops of lubricant dropped onto the floor and it was easy for Tarn slip the first finger into the pliant, wet channel.  
  
“It was someone from Autobot high command but not the Prime, he wouldn't do something like that. It sounds more like something a mech like Prowl would do. Always the schemer, calculating thousands of possible outcomes in just a few nano-kliks. And he understands that sacrifices are sometimes necessary. Besides, they already have an excellent doctor capable of miracles. _A second one just seems... redundant._ ”  
  
“Don't say that!” Pharma hissed while his calipers cycled around the digit greedily. Tarn came even closer, pressing his massive frame against Pharma's thruster and sneaking his free arm around Pharma's midsection to grab his spike again. A second digit joined the first in his valved and Tarn started to thrust them in and out. It was a slow pace, at least for now.  
  
“ _I know it hurts. It hurt so much you cannot bear the thought of it being the truth. There is no greater pain than that of betrayal. Those you thought you could trust stabbing you in the back. Rest assured that there is no one in this universe who understands this better than I do. Each and everyone on the list... they hurt me you know?_ ”  
  
Tarn added a third digit and Pharma gasped when the stretching began. It had been a bit since the had done this. Too much to do in between their last meeting and this one.  
  
“ _At first I wondered if we were doing something wrong. What could lead a mech to the outlandish conclusion that the Decepticons were not the right faction for them after all? Even if our ideals are pure and our leader inspirational. But then I realized... it's not us, it's them. It's their own fault for straying from the path. The only possible answer to that... is punishment. Death. In death, they will find the forgiveness that I will not grant them. And I cannot grant them forgiveness because it hurts me too much._ ”  
  
This time, Pharma whimpered at the loss when Tarn withdrew his digits. His words had taken a complete hold of him by now, swirling around his processor. Betrayal. Pain. The thought of the Autobots selling him out did hurt. But maybe... maybe Tarn wasn't lying to him. The evidence certainly was in favor of this idea. Pharma didn't want to hear anything about this anymore. All he wanted now was to be stretched by Tarn's spike and forget his terrible fate, just for a moment.  
  
And then Tarn grabbed him by he thighs and yanked backwards. His hips changed their angle into the perfect position while his upper frame fell forward until the chains lost their slack and suspended him into the air.  
  
Pharma screamed.  
  
His wings were on fire, all the tension was back in an instant and the pierce wounds reopened, bleeding even more heavily than before. The pain swallowed even the pleasure he had felt just a moment before and he struggled weakly as Tarn entered him.  
  
“Tarn! No, stop, please! Not like this! It hurts!”  
  
“Yes, it hurts because you hurt me as well. Be thankful that you are not a Decepticon or I would have no other choice but to kill you. Your betrayal is different, so I'm willing to give you a second chance. After punishing you, of course. You are very privileged, Pharma, no one has ever gotten a second chance from me before.”  
  
Tarn started moving and Pharma couldn't keep quiet. He screamed as his wings had to bear too much of his weight. The plating creaked in protest. There was no pleasure to be found anymore, not when this pain overwhelmed all his other senses and Tarn had stopped to use his voice on him to soothe his spark through this torture.  
  
“This...,” he bit out even through the agony, “this is why I hate you... because... you do this to me... like it's your right.”  
  
“Oh Pharma, my dear Pharma. It's just a little pain. You can bear it. It's nothing compared to the pain of betrayal.” Tarn paused for a moment before continuing with a few soothing undertones turning his voice into sweet salvation again. “ _But I suppose I can show you just a little more forgiveness._ ”  
  
The pain dulled. Pharma finally had enough presence of mind to even be able to feel the thick spike filling him completely. His pained screams subsided and were replaced by the first soft sighs. He was still distantly aware of the pain but neither his spark nor his processor seemed to be able to pay it much attention right now.  
  
“ _As I said before, there is no need to hate me. I can give you so much. New servos. You would like new servos, wouldn't you? And revenge against the Autobots who have treated you so unfairly before throwing you away like a_ _n empty_ _cube._ ”  
  
Pharma wanted to answer but his first attempt was nothing but a drawn out moan as Tarn hit his ceiling node with frightening familiarity.  
  
“You... are the DJD, you don't fight Autobots.”  
  
“ _We do when they cross our path. But you're right, we usually don't specifically seek them out. Let's make a deal then. Deals have always worked so well between us. You may choose one Autobot. And we will hunt this Autobot down and kill him as if he was on the list._ ”  
  
One of Tarn servos that was previously occupied with holding Pharma by the hips and keeping him into position now wandered beneath his frame. But instead of going for his spike, he pressed it against Pharma's waste tank again. There was a sudden rush of pressure and fullness from within, a sensation that made Pharma squirm and gasp in a way that left him wondering if it was pleasure or discomfort. With a fully pressurized spike there was no way any fluid could leak out which made this action all the more frustrating. And he still had to find out what Tarn even wanted from him.  
  
“What do you want in return? And what if I chose Optimus Prime?”  
  
“You won't. We both know that there is someone you hate more than the Prime. More than even me.”  
  
Tarn was right. Pharma hated when Tarn was right.  
  
“And as for what I want...” Tarn slowed down just to pick up his pace again. One servo still pressed against Pharma's waste tank while the other held onto his hips. He put every bit of power into his next words.  
  
“ _ **A promise. A pledge. Your undying loyalty. I already own your frame and your skills. All I**_ _ **still**_ _ **need is your spark. Forget your hate for me. Perhaps... you could even learn to love me.**_ ”  
  
Pharma overloaded from both Tarn's voice and the interfacing. His valve twitched, his whole frame tingled and everything faded first into static, then white. He was distinctly aware of some of the pressure leaving his frame but there was still so much left pushing against his insides. He rebooted his optics. He watched the transfluid on the floor without too much interest, waiting until Tarn had finished as well. It was then, when his spike softened enough but didn't return into its housing yet that he realized it.  
  
He really needed to expel the waste fluid.  
  
He could already feel it preparing to leave his tank and he held it back with all he had, squirming in Tarn's grip once more.  
  
“Tarn, let me go! I need to...”  
  
“You need to what?”  
  
The smugness was so thick it could be tasted. Tarn knew. Of course he did because he had made Pharma drink so much in the first place. Tarn wasn't actually planning to let Pharma leak right here, in the prison cell? Of course, it wasn't like Pharma hadn't seen many many patients leak on themselves before. But this was different. Especially because Tarn was here and because Tarn was deriving some sick kind of pleasure from it.  
  
Tarn let him down before finally, **finally** unclasping the hooks on his wings. Pharma immediately sank to the floor where he knelt, propping himself on his arm stumps and pressing his legs together as tightly as he could.  
  
“Now now, Pharma. That is unhealthy. You cling too much to things that no longer benefit you. They will only wear you down and bring you discomfort. There is, however, a simple solution. Let them go. _**Let it all go.**_ ”  
  
Let it all go. The words seeped into him, relaxed him. And just like that, he felt a stream of warm liquid emerge between his legs and form a puddle beneath him while the pressure within vanished. It felt good, it felt so damn good that it was almost better than the overload he had just had. He moaned and stared up at Tarn who had stepped in front of him again and was watching with keen interest.  
  
“How does it feel? Now you're covered in your own filth. Isn't that humiliating? Aren't you embarrassed? Letting it go is not all there is to it. To truly be free, you need to be cleansed as well. That will be the next step.”  
  
Tarn turned away, ready to leave and Pharma stretched out a servoless arm into his direction as panic welled up inside of him.  
  
“Tarn, please! I'll do anything! Just... don't leave me like this!”  
  
Tarn paused. He looked down at Pharma in silence, seemingly contemplating what to do. Or perhaps he was searching for the sincerity in Pharma's words.  
  
If Tarn was right and the Autobots had sold him out... then yes, he did want revenge. Especially on Ratchet. It was not like he would love Tarn for this, he still hated Tarn for everything that he had done but... this was perhaps the most preferable outcome in this situation. He did not want to die. Not now, not after what he had found out. And if living meant having to please this mech then that was a small price to pay for the satisfaction he would get when he held Ratchet's life in his servos before snuffing it out. Perhaps finding out who was to blame for his fate would come next. Yes... maybe he could make a list.  
  
Tarn stepped closer and even through the mask, Pharma could swear he saw him smile.  
  
“You learn a lot quicker than anticipated. Very well then. Come, your new life awaits you.”  
  
\---  
  
 **Bonus**  
  
The problem with watching your commander interface with an Autobot was when you watched it with a blind bot and had to describe everything to him in vivid detail. As much as Kaon could see even without optics, he had no idea what was going on behind a screen.  
  
“Why is the Autobot screaming like that? I thought Tarn had prepared him beforehand?”  
  
“Yeah, see it's, uhm... because of the position they're in. Like, that medic is half hanging in the air because of the chains. And I think it puts strain on his wings? That or Tarn is.... slag, I can't do this anymore. Helex, you take over. I embarrassed myself enough already.”  
  
But Helex didn't answer. Tesarus frowned, ready to punch his teammate. Lightly. Just to remind him to answer when someone addressed him. But when he looked to the side, he paused in shock. Helex was watching the screen intently and... his glossa was sticking out.  
  
“Helex? HELEX! Are you actually turned on by this?!”  
  
“Huh, what? No! ...no? ...maybe?”  
  
“Alright, I can't take this anymore. I'm leaving. Kaon, if you still want to know what's going on, ask Vos or something.”  
  
Vos seemed rather interested as well. He mumbled things to himself and let out a hissing giggle sometimes. “Phaaaarmaaa.” He repeated the name Tarn was calling the Autobot, seemingly amused by it.  
  
“Oh, and just one more thing: not a word. To anyone. We never saw this. Tarn is going to put us right at the top of the list if he finds out.”  
  
“Say, do you think we can get our own Autobots?”  
  
“Oh sure, why not? You can have Bumblebee and I take Optimus Prime. What in the slag do you want an Autobot for?! Take proper care of your smelter first!”  
  
“I do! And you are the one who always gets random parts stuck in his blades!”  
  
Now that Tesarus and Helex were busy arguing, Kaon no longer had any idea what was going on. He moved next to Vos to listen to him instead.  
  
Just another day for the DJD.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it to the end! Thanks for reading! And if you have thoughts on it that aren't just swear words, I'd always love to hear them!


End file.
